


What Could I Do to Change Your Mind?

by elisa_pie



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Star Trek Beyond, Star Trek Beyond Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisa_pie/pseuds/elisa_pie
Summary: Jim, already feeling lost, finds out that Spock is leaving. Set during Star Trek Beyond. Written for rabidchild's prompt 'sledgehammer'.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rabidchild67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/gifts).



> This isn't the first Spirk fic I have written, but it is the first one I've had the courage to post here, so please be kind <3 Huge thanks to rabidchild for the help and encouragement <3

Jim’s about to walk into the mess hall when he hears Spock’s voice and smiles to himself. It feels like they haven’t had a proper chat for weeks. First there had been that simple science mission gone wrong, requiring Spock to oversee the repairs of the science equipment, working double shifts. Then they had transported what seemed like a shipful of diplomats to the Babel conference, and there hadn’t been much time for personal discussions. The general mood on the ship had been more solemn and subdued than usually. Whether it was because of the political tensions between their guests, or just the result of a long time spent on a deep space mission, Jim’s not sure. All he knows that it’s been getting to him, more so than usually. 

Jim hears Uhura’s voice, and the tone more than the words stops him short. It sounds like she’s crying, or very near to tears.

“I just can’t believe you would do this. After everything that we’ve been through--I thought we were fine, I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” Spock answers. “My decision is not a reflection on you, Nyota. I value you and your friendship greatly. I had assumed you were aware of that.”

Jim definitely doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but damn he _is_ curious. Purely because he’s concerned for his crewmates and their wellbeing, of course. Spock and Uhura have been acting completely professionally since their break up. So much so that if Jim didn’t know they had “amicably parted ways through a mutual agreement”, as Spock put it, he might have thought they were still together.

“But you’d rather be on New Vulcan than here, with us,” Uhura says. She sounds calmer now, which Jim finds even more scary. “What about your duty to Starfleet?”

“I have a duty to my race as well,” Spock replies, his voice quiet.

Jim leans against the wall and closes his eyes for a moment. This is definitely not what he had expected to hear. He had thought Spock was--well, maybe happy isn’t exactly the right word to describe his first officer, but Spock had certainly seemed content with his life and work aboard the Enterprise. Jim always enjoys Spock’s company, and he had assumed that had been mutual. But if Spock’s duty to his own race came first, even before Uhura, then whatever friendship existed between him and Spock probably hadn’t factored into the decision at all.

So much for that legendary friendship promised by the other Spock, then. Jim feels a strange pang of sorrow at that thought, mixing with the loneliness he feels like he’s been carrying with him for a long while. He hasn’t heard from the older Spock in a long time either. Messages can take a long time to arrive when they travel further into uncharted territories, and they haven’t kept in regular contact anyway. But every time there’s a call or even a message waiting for him from the Vulcan colony, Jim’s heart leaps and he catches himself grinning stupidly at the screen before clicking. If the not-quite-smiles he gets from the older Spock are any indication, he’s always happy to see Jim too. Sometimes Jim thinks he lives for those smiles: from the Ambassador, but also from his Spock. He’s not quite sure when he started thinking about his Spock as--well, _his_ , but he needs a way to distinguish them from another, right?

“But what about me?” Uhura asks after a moment, echoing Jim’s thoughts. “What about your duty to _us_?”

When he notices a loud group of new ensigns approaching the mess--so blissfully happy and for the moment still unaware of the grueling reality of deep space travel--Jim leaves, walking back the way he came. He can get a snack from the replicator in his quarters, and it isn’t his place to listen to that conversation anyway. Surely Spock would tell him about it, as soon as they got a chance to talk properly, and then Jim would get a chance to change his friend’s mind.

The application for the position of vice admiral is still open on a PADD on his desk, almost like it’s mocking him, saying _but you’re thinking about leaving too_. It’s not the same, he tells himself, but the words feel hollow as he stares into the vast emptiness of space that seems even more cold and unwelcoming right now.

Soon he will be a year older than his father was when he died. His father had been so young, so full of life and hope, and yet Jim feels old, the years and responsibilities weighing heavily on him. The loneliness doesn’t help either.

Jim sends the application and curls into bed, staring at the stars until he finally falls asleep.

*

Jim thinks about starting his captain’s log with the words _just another day at the office_ before dismissing the idea as ridiculous. In the end, his last log before they arrive in Yorktown can be pretty much summed by that phrase, although it gets more philosophical than that. Jim wonders whether that happens to all starship captains on deep space missions - not just the weariness and tedium of the mission, but also the tendency to get philosophical about what is, or feels like it is, a very mundane and boring job most of the time. 

It’s not like the most recent mission was a total disaster. Sure, he didn’t manage to negotiate the peace treaty, but no one had died either. When the aliens had attacked him he wasn’t in any real danger from the tiny creatures as long as Scotty got him out in time before they tore off all his clothes and attacked his flesh with their tiny claws. So he doesn’t quite understand why he can’t shake off the feelings of sadness and loss afterwards, why they seep into his log and his conversation with Bones. 

As they get ready to leave Yorktown, Jim doesn’t feel as excited about navigating the vast and dangerous nebula as he thinks he should. Back at the beginning of his Starfleet career, he had been thrilled at the possibility of danger, embracing the unknown. Now he just feels… old. Maybe it’s just this time of the year and his birthday. Maybe he made the right decision after all, applying for a ground position. 

Everything goes to hell soon after that. When he’s running through an unfamiliar forest on an unfamiliar planet with Chekov in tow, the surge of adrenalin keeping him moving, Jim feels alive. Scared, but with a purpose, and maybe he isn’t ready to give this up after all.

*

“You know, you’ve gotta talk to Jim sooner or later,” Bones says, his voice reaching Jim, who’s about to walk into the part of the Franklin Bones refuses to call medbay since all the equipment is _from the goddamn dark ages_. Bones can be so dramatic at times. The thought would make Jim smile, except that he can guess the topic of this particular conversation from the tone of Bones’s voice before he can make out the actual words. 

“...assuming we get out of this goddamn mess alive and you still want to honor Ambassador Spock’s legacy on New Vulcan… well, there’s no way around it. You have to talk to Jim,” Bones continues.

“I am aware of that, Doctor,” Spock says. His voice sounds quieter, soft in the way he never talks to Bones. Jim wonders if it’s because of Spock’s injury, and the worry and panic that hit him when they had transported Spock aboard the Franklin threatens to overwhelm him again. Or maybe Spock is just keeping quiet in case anyone overhears the conversation, though Bones doesn’t seem to care how loud he’s being.

“You sure? Because I didn’t see you even trying to tell him just now when we came aboard. You haven’t even told him about Ambassador Spock, have you?”

And yeah, that hurt too, although Jim had heard the news of the Ambassador’s death before their departure from Yorktown. When he saw the serious looking Vulcans--serious even by Vulcan standards--as he was walking aimlessly around the starbase, it was like he had known already, before he even talked to them. Something had told him that something was wrong, and the news of the older Spock’s passing left him numb.

But Jim pushed it from his mind, like he did with the thought of his Spock leaving, like he did with everything else. He had no choice; his crew was in danger, he had no time for his own sadness. He had been almost glad to forget it, even for a little while, but now that it comes rushing back to him, everything feels even worse. It’s like he’s losing Spock--both of them--all over again, each time he remembers, each time they have a chance to catch their breaths in what has become a life-or-death situation.

It feels so much worse, losing the same person in two different versions, in two different ways. One to the inevitable passing of time, one to his own stubbornness and stupid unselfishness.

“It was hardly the right time for such a momentous discussion,” Spock answers. “I shall inform the Captain of my decision soon.”

 _Yeah, right_ , Jim thinks. _You’d better._

“Oh, it’s Captain now, is it?” Bones says, a smile in his voice. “And see that you do. Because you know who’s gonna have to pick up the damn pieces and comfort him when you abandon him?”

Spock says nothing, and after listening to that telling silence for a few more moments--Spock wouldn’t normally let Bones have the last word like that--Jim goes to the transporter room to see how Scotty is getting along with the transporter.

There’s a lot to be done. He has a crew to save, and an enemy to defeat. Everyone needs him; what he needs doesn’t matter right now, even though his own needs are becoming annoyingly clear to him.

*

“What would I do without you, Spock?”

The words are out of Jim’s mouth before he has the chance to think them through. The combination of absolute physical exhaustion and the immense relief at surviving seem to have torn down all the walls he has built around himself, careful not to appear too desperate in front of Spock. It’s nothing new, his need for Spock, but the words have a different weight now, after everything that’s happened. They hang in the air as Bones shouts in victory and begins to pilot the alien ship back on the ground--or what passes for ground on this starbase, anyway. And probably what passes for landing with Bones’s piloting skills.

When they had beamed Spock and Bones on the Franklin, Jim had expressed his doubts about getting them out of this mess. Spock’s reassurance had been instant and full of confidence in their ability to find a way, his confidence in Jim, even when everything had seemed hopeless. And Spock had been right, of course he’d been right. He always is.

Even when the stubborn bastard wants to leave him, leave all of them, for some stupidly noble and altruistic reason. Even when he doesn’t tell Jim about his decision to leave, avoiding the inevitable conversation until the danger is over and they are safe.

Jim’s lost in his thoughts, resting against the cold metal of the alien ship, his heart still beating so fast it feels like it’s never going to slow down. It takes him a moment to realise Spock is still kind of holding his hand, the grip now loosened from when he was pulling Jim into the ship, away from the darkness.

 _I cannot lose this,_ Jim thinks frantically as he squeezes Spock’s hand before regretfully letting it go. Spock closes his eyes and seems to sigh. _I cannot lose him_.

*

For Jim, his birthday has never been a cause for celebration. It has always been too painful, a reminder of what he has lost, what he could be but isn’t, all the expectations other people place on him. But when Bones leads him to the party and Jim raises his glass, he makes sure to look everyone in the eyes as his gaze sweeps across the room. Right this moment, it feels different. It feels good. The sheer happiness of being alive and surrounded by his best friends is overwhelming. They are all here for him, because of him. Jim wants to take Bones into his arms and give him a kiss on the cheek--or hell, even on his mouth. It would probably be worth it for the reaction he’d get. Damn, he loves Bones.

In the end Jim settles for a tight hug, the zippers of their respective jackets digging into his skin, whispering the words into Bones’s ear. The grunt he gets in response sounds a lot like _Yeah, love you too, kid_ and Jim’s heart squeezes tight even as he lets go and clasps Bones’s shoulder. If only it was this easy with Spock. If he could whisper those same words, with a different weight to them, into Spock’s ear and be sure of the response he’d get. If only Jim wasn’t already worried about losing him.

As the party goes on and Jim spots Spock alone at the edge of the crowd, it hits him again--Spock’s imminent departure and the fact that Spock hasn’t talked to him about it yet. It’s almost like a physical ache beneath his skin. He’s sure Spock would call that illogical. He’s afraid of waking up one morning on the starbase, with Spock already gone and his resignation letter waiting for Jim’s signature. It’s not something he thinks Spock would do--and Spock would probably call these thoughts illogical, too--but that doesn’t make the fear go away. It’s not like he’s never been left behind before. Some wounds take their time to heal, and some never do.

“I heard about Ambassador Spock,” Jim says as he walks up to Spock. 

Spock acknowledges him with a nod, but Jim knows he must be hurting. There will be time for a more personal expression of condolences later when they are alone. Maybe a comforting touch, a hand on a shoulder--a small indulgence in physical affection that Spock might not allow in a public place. Unless Spock is planning to leave as soon as possible, Jim thinks again. He’s fighting against the urge to reach out and hold Spock right then as he sees the sadness in his friend’s eyes, everyone and everything else be damned.

“Is that what you wanted to mention that time in the turbolift?” he asks instead.

“More or less,” Spock says.

Even if Jim hadn’t already found out about Spock’s plans, that tone of voice would have made him instantly suspicious. The difference in his choice of words is subtle, but for Jim it’s as obvious as if Spock had been blushing and fidgeting and showing any number of the usual human signs for lying. 

“I trust your meeting with Commodore Paris went well?” Spock asks.

“More or less,” Jim says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I thought I wanted…” he continues, still unsure about voicing his own doubts and the abandoned plan to leave the Enterprise. But if he wants an honest answer to his own question...

“What do you want, Jim?” Spock asks as the silence between them continues. Jim doesn’t miss the shift to present tense. Spock is always precise with his words. Unlike Jim, Spock always thinks carefully before he speaks.

Jim knows the answer to that, more than ever now. _You. To be in space, exploring, with the finest crew in Starfleet, and you. I’ll always want you._ But the confession seems too big, even now, just like it had when he’d been dying, with Spock’s face on the other side of the glass. But this is different. They have all the time now--or at least Jim hopes they do. So instead of confessing the enormity of his feelings, he decides to reveal another truth first.

“I applied for that position for Vice Admiral, and that meeting with Commodore Paris… she offered it to me. I guess, well, after everything that happened, the general feeling was that I deserved it.”

“I see,” Spock says evenly.

“But I didn’t take it,” Jim says quickly. “I was... I don’t know _what_ I was feeling. I was starting to lose my way, I guess. In a ship full of people, I was getting lonely. Would you believe that?” he finishes with a laugh that sounds false even to his own ears.

“Jim--” Spock starts, then shakes his head in a few controlled movements. “I was not aware of this. I apologize.”

“That’s okay,” Jim says, although it’s clearly not. He has been missing Spock while they were on the same ship and saw each other every day during their shift. How much more is it going to hurt when they have entire galaxies between them?

“While I am not the ideal candidate for emotional--” Spock begins.

“You are! I mean, you provide plenty of emotional reassurance--and you know how much I-well, us illogical humans need that.”

“Indeed.”

“I guess we’ll just have to get better at this, huh?” Jim says.

“Yes,” Spock says, but there is an obvious pause before the word, and Jim starts worrying again.

“So, how about you, Spock? What did you want to tell me?”

“It was indeed my intention to tell you about the Ambassador, but also to inform you of my decision to honor his legacy. However--”

“You’re leaving?” Jim blurts out before he can stop himself and winces. The last thing he needs right now is to let Spock know how much it would hurt him. Wanting to help rebuild your race is a noble goal, right? Certainly more noble than his own reasons for thinking about leaving. He shouldn’t stand in the way of that because of his own emotional needs. Or maybe he should surrender to them entirely, act completely selfishly for once and beg Spock to stay.

Spock turns to face him, the slight movement of one eyebrow betraying his surprise at Jim’s words.

“I wish to live as he did,” Spock says softly.

“So you do want to leave?”

“No,” Spock says. “After the events of the past few days I believe I have gained a new perspective, both on his life and my own. Our destinies have always been intertwined, even beyond the mere fact of his actions creating an alternate timeline and affecting the shape of my life, of all our lives. I believe he--” Spock pauses. “I _know_ how much he valued his experience aboard the Enterprise. Like my counterpart, I also value this life, the mission, and… my friends.”

“Oh,” Jim says, and grins. “Even me?”

Spock simply looks at him, his gaze deep and searching, before he replies. “Especially you, Jim. I am now more certain than ever before that the only way to honor Ambassador Spock’s legacy is to remain in Starfleet and aboard the Enterprise. To live my life among the stars, by your side.”

“So you’re staying?” Jim says, staring at Spock as he’s absorbing the words. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything so beautiful, so right.

“I believe that is what I said, Jim,” Spock answers, one corner of his mouth curving up so slightly that Jim might have missed it if he hadn’t been staring at Spock’s face so intently.

“Good, yeah, me too,” Jim says, his gaze shifting from Spock’s mouth up to his eyes, and he knows he’s babbling but he can’t seem to stop. “I want that, all of it. The Enterprise, and you.”

They keep staring at each other until Bones and then the other members of the bridge crew-- his _family--_ walk to them to watch the building of the new Enterprise. Their new home.

Jim couldn’t stop grinning even if he wanted to. He can’t imagine feeling a happiness greater than this--until he feels Spock’s fingers brushing against his. The slow, gentle caress continues for a few blissful seconds, until Jim slots their fingers together and squeezes Spock’s hand. It feels like his entire hand is tingling when Spock squeezes back. It feels like home.

After a while the lights are dimmed and the other members of the bridge crew start to circle the room, talking with everyone and getting more drinks. There’s music coming from somewhere, a sudden burst of sound that has everyone shouting in joy and dancing. Jim would bet anything that Jaylah’s behind the music and this particular song choice. He can imagine her as a DJ in the parties at the Academy. She’s going to fit in just fine, Jim is sure of it.

Spock is still holding his hand, and despite the noise around them everything feels quiet and intimate.

“I really am sorry about Ambassador Spock,” Jim says, not quite daring to look Spock in the eye just yet. 

“Thank you,” Spock says, and squeezes his hand again.

Jim can feel a soft tingling sensation all the way along his arm, like a whisper travelling along his skin. He can sense an echo of Spock’s sadness through the contact, and realizes that Spock can probably feel everything he’s feeling, the wonderful mess of emotions tightening his chest. And he’s still holding Jim’s hand.

“You know,” Jim says around the sudden lump in his throat, “he always believed in me, no matter what, even when I didn’t really believe in myself. Just like Pike did. And now they’re both gone.”

“I grieve with thee,” Spock whispers.

“He--well, both of them, but the Ambassador, he saw something good in me. Something worth loving. One of the first people who ever did.”

“The first, perhaps, but certainly not the last,” Spock says, the words firm and certain, but he hesitates for a moment before he turns his head to look at Jim and continues. “Jim, do you wish--”

“Like you said, to live my life by your side? Hell yeah,” Jim answers, eager to convince Spock that he really wants this, wants Spock, in any way he can have him.

“I am gratified to hear that. As you previously stated, we do make a good team.”

“Damn right we do,” Jim says and grins at Spock, getting a slight twitch of lips in return.

“However, that is not precisely what I meant to ask. I wished to know if you would…if you wished to...”

Jim takes a closer look at Spock, and although it’s dark and there are several colorful lights casting shadows around them, he could swear that Spock is _blushing_.

“If I would… what?”

“If you would consider moving to a more private corner of the room in order to engage in some mutually pleasurable activities?” Spock finally says.

Jim feels like his birthday and Christmas and all the holidays of the Federation rolled into one because that sounds downright dirty. Jim’s pretty sure Spock didn’t just suggest they sex it up in public, but even a make-out session in a corner of his birthday party? Jim feels like a teenager again, young and full of hope and hormones. Except that the actual birthdays of his teenage years had never been like this, so full of happiness and love.

“Hmm, I thought we were already kissing? Isn’t this how Vulcans do it?” Jim asks as he drags his fingers between Spock’s, and feels Spock shiver against him.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to try it the human way?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Okay,” Jim breathes out.

Before he can say anything else, Spock moves, dragging Jim along until the sounds of music and laughter are muted by a divider. Spock’s eyes are dark as he stares at Jim and pushes him against the wall, but his voice is soft, his breath a warm puff of air on Jim’s face.

“Jim, I want-”

“Me too,” Jim says. He brings their joined hands to his mouth and kisses Spock’s knuckles gently, his lips dragging against the hot skin.

“I was a fool to think I could leave you,” Spock mutters.

“Please don’t, don’t ever do that,” Jim whispers against Spock’s lips before kissing him. 

Spock hums in answer, his other hand tangling in Jim’s hair as he deepens the kiss. Jim feels like he’s still catching up to this moment as he explores Spock’s mouth with his tongue, frantically trying to bring their bodies as close as possible. There are no galaxies of unspoken secrets between them, no distance that can’t be reduced to nothing by exploring hands and mouths pressing together, breathing the same air even when they break off the kiss.

“You should have worn a bow on your head or something you know,” Jim pants against Spock’s mouth. “Because you’re totally my favourite birthday present.”

“I believe-” Spock starts as he trails his hand down Jim’s chest, pausing just above the belt buckle “-you will still be able to ‘unwrap’ your present, if you wish to do so.”

“Oh, I wish very much, Mister Spock,” Jim says before angling his head for another kiss.


End file.
